
When The Waves 
Dash High 



Ethel Cotton B. E. 



When The Waves 
Dash High 

AND OTHER POEMS 



Ethel Cotton B. E. 



SAN FRANCISCO 
1918 



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DEC 30 1918 
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In presenting the initial production of Miss Cotton's 
poems for exclusive circulation among her friends and 
students, it may be well to explain that they are not 
the result of the careful study and thought that such, 
a publication should receive. 

Rather are they the record of spontaneous thoughts 
inspired by association with her student friends, for 
whom they were written, and by whom they will doubt- 
less be best understood. 

If they ' ' help to make a moment sweeter, or a weary 
hour less long, ' ' their end will have been accomplished. 

W. E. MONAHAN. 




Ctjnattttaa ® 

'Tis not that I care for you more this day, 
That I greet you, Oh friend of mine, 
But I just take time to tell you my love 
This joyous holiday time. 

Ethel Cotton Studio of Expression. 



WHEN THE WAVES DASH HIGH 

When the waves dash high, a thrill o 'er-spreads my 

being ; 
A strange neAV ecstacy now permeates my will; 
A new desire for life in all its meaning; 
A longing in my heart I cannot still. 

When the waves dash high, I feel that I am lifted 
Upon the highest billow of the crest. 
And buoyancy is mine, a strange new feeling. 
So full of life, and yet of holy rest. 

When the waves dash high, and spray is windward 

carried, 
My thoughts, as scattered bits of fleecy foam, 
Run swiftly to the end of all my dr earnings, 
Beyond life's limitations dare to roam. 

When the waves dash high, it brings me the sensation 
Of journeying in spirit far above 
This mortal plain; in unknown incarnation 
Where all is radiant energy, and love. 

When the waves dash high, then happiness enthralls 

me, 
As joyous as the clouds swift floating. by, 
I lift my soul to God in glad emotion 
That thrills me; when the waves dash high. 



CHEER UP 

If a little gloomy shadow starts to steal across your 

heart, 
And roseate hopes all turn to dingy blue; 
If a little secret sorrow tries to make the tear drops 

start, 
And pessimism whispers "Friends are few^" 

Open wide the shutters of your clouded window-soul, 

And let a little gratitude creep in; 

You'll find you're rather fortunate and your life as a 

whole 
Is a rather jolly game for you to win. 

The sun is ever shining, if 'tis hid behind a cloud; 
You always have the wondrous sky above ; 
The music of the breezes, the whispering of the leaves ; 
And ever someone's faith, and trust, and love. 




A QUESTION 

Christmas to me brings gladness rare 

For all that life has given. 

A happiness I fain would share, 

For here and now is heaven. 

My peace, my gladness yours must be ; 

Yours my contentment too. 

This is what Christmas means to me. 

What does it mean to you? 




THE BLUE BIRD 

A Bluebird came and tapped. at the door 

Of my tired heart one day, 

And told me if I would make him a place 

He'd willingly with me stay; 

But my heart was crowded with worldly cares, 

I was seeking fame with zest, 

And had no time to prepare a room 

For my little waiting guest. 

And the wise little voice within me 
Said, "The only kind of fame 
That long remains must come thru love, 
And ' Happiness' is its name." 

Again the Bluebird called when I 
Had attained the dreams of my youth, 
And told me he'd come and dwell with me 
If I'd welcome Love and Truth; 
But the glitter of fancied triumphs, 
The tinsel of worldly show, 
Satisfied the heart unawakened, 
And the soul that did not know. 



But the wise little voice within me 
Repeated the old refrain, 
"You'll yearn in time for true success, 
And Happiness is its name." 



When years had passed and I realized 

That fame and so called success 

Were fleeting joys that could not bring 

To the soul real happiness, 

The Blue-bird returned, and whispered to me 

"It is not too late this day 

For me to come and reside in your heart, 

Admit me now, I pray. ' ' 



And the wise little voice within me, 
That would not e'er depart, 
Taught ,me the way to peace and joy 
For my care-worn selfish heart. 

"If you do the work that is nearest, 

The thing that for you seems best, 

Be it great or small matters not at all, 

You may leave to God the rest. 

Add the little daily service 

To all of humankind, 

And 'twill bring true joy within the heart, 

Contentment in the mind." 



And the wise little voice within me 
Tells me the work that is best, 
And by service of Love I find success 
In a life of happiness. 



0, restless one ever chasing 

The elusive star of fame ; 

If life to you means selfish gain, 

And you have no higher aim; 

When your heart grows weary longing 

For the things that you'll then hold dear, 

Know you, you have only to welcome 

The happiness that is here. 

And the wise little voice within you 
Will help you to live anew. 
And in your breast, forever will rest, 
A little bird of blue. 




RECIPROCITY 

If I have helped to make a moment sweeter, 
If memory makes a weary hour less long, 
If dreary day and week now glide by fleeter, 
And in thy 'wakening heart dwells tender song, 
'Tis only that I chanced to be the nearest 
Of all Fate's messengers to rescue thee; 
And open wide thy soul to all the beauty 
And gladness with which Life surroundeth thee. 

And yet, tho now thou art an unchained spirit, 
Which evermore will liberated be, 
Yet to a sacred trust thou too art promised, 
That each unfettered soul now must be free. 
No peace can dwell within thy inmost bosom, 
While others still are blind to love's behest; 
So scatter wide the germ of inspiration 
Till hope springs high in every human breast. 

Each has within his consciousness all beauty, 
All harmony, all power, joy, and peace; 
But many a heart needs kindly inspiration 
To help him realize his soul's release. 
So strive to know thy fellow man so truly 
That thou canst help unloose restraining bar 
Of fear and doubt, timidity, and worry, 
'Till his freed spirit soars on heights afar. 



THE SOUL— IN TUNE 

In sailing over the sea of life, 

Some there are who are brave 

And courageously plow thru the darkest crest, 

But you blithely ride the wave. 

It matters not tho' the seas be high, 
You joyously hoist the sail 
Of Hope to your buoyant craft 
And weather the stormiest gale. 

When doubts o'er take you, and you seem 
To be steering against the tide, 
Truth ever unfurls her billowy folds, 
And calmly again you glide. 

Once more the tempest attacks your craft, 
And again you meet the blast 
By taking Love as your pilot sure, 
Till you're safely moored at last. 



The infinite current of life ever flows 
For us all, from its source above. 
We may gain its power, if our sails be Hope 
And Truth, and our pilot Love. 



IN FANCY'S WONDERLAND 

Long years ago, in childhood days, 

My parents ever thought my ways 

Uncommon strange, eccentric, queer; 

For things to them quite real were mere, 

In my small brain, fantastic show; 

Or stranger still, were all aglow 

With glories, splendors dear to me, 

That none but fancy's eye could see. 

I could not understand 

Why others could not with me share 

The wondrous visions pictured there. 

In our small home, 

Dwelt I alone, 

In fancy's wonderland. 

And when they did not comprehend 

My little visions, it was then 

A new idea seized my brain, 

That first brought joy, and later pain. 

That I to them did not belong 

In truth ; but simply thru a wrong 

And secret deed had stolen been, 



From some far distant magic queen, 

In mystic foreign land. 

And since no filial love they felt, 

For many wistful days I dw«lt 

On wrongs I knew, 

That larger grew, 

In fancy's wonderland. 

When after I was made to feel 

My parents were my own; and real 

To me the fact came home 

That I was only as their own, 

A simple child, of simple birth, 

Lowly my station on the earth, 

Immediately a vision new 

Evolved itself, and ever grew 

Until the world it spanned. 

No more in modest home we dwelt, 

But all thru my child mind I felt 

The home extend 

To marvelous end 

In fancy's wonderland. 

Climbing the rustic loft of hay 
I, to my inner self, would say 
"These ruins add much to the charm 
Of these vast acres, wooded farm 
Of my old squire." And gazing thru 
The farm yard gate, I only knew 
It as the portal stately, tall, 



As 



That led into the entrance hall 

Of castle large, and grand. 

And every little rustic walk 

Or garden path, to me would talk 

Of wooers old, 

Knights brave and bold, 

In fancy's wonderland. 

In going to my simple bed 

I'd turret mount, with lofty head 

Held high ; as childish thought would roam 

O'er this fair mansion, once the home 

Of royal knight, now far away. 

And we, his kinsman, here to stay 

Until the wandering one returned. 

And as the candle lower burned, 

With childish eye I scanned 

The curtains, that to me were old 

Soft Persian, threaded all with gold; 

And carven chair, 

And grandeur rare, 

In fancy's wonderland. 

At morn, as I on pony sat, 

(In truth, 'twas rather slow and fat), 

I rode on steed with flowing mane; 

And cantered thru the country lane 

Amd if but viewing the estate 

Of my ancestors, proud and great. 

Instead of open fields and road 



Upon my steed of black I rode 

On tropic fairy strand; 

With tall trees waving as I passed, 

And blossoms that for ever last, 

Full many a mile 

O'er bridge and stile 

In fancy's wonderland. 

A little distance o'er the hill 

The ocean, restless, never stilL 

Surged in upon the rocky coast 

That, tho' so rough, is England's boast 

Of beauty, picturesque and grand. 

Here, running far out from the land, 

A broad breakwater stretching wide 

Broke in its wrath the surging tide, 

That played upon the sand. 

Here for my long lost ships I'd strain 

My eyes across the restless main; 

And long I'd gaze 

In mystic maze, 

In fancy 's wonderland. 



Long years have passed away since then; 
And life's swift conflict does not lend 
Itself to dreams, or fancies dear. 
Yet, still to me it bringeth cheer 
To "just pretend" in dreary day 



That all the work is merely play. 

And homely tasks in little home 

Need not debar sweet fancy's roam 

In other fairer strand. 

And all my busy life is made 

Sweeter, for game in childhood played, 

When I could dwell, 

What e'er befell, 

In fancy's wonderland. 





THE LESSON OF CHRISTMAS 

Would you know the joy of the Christmas tide 
This gladsome time of the year ? 
Go live with the heart of a little child 
And you will imbibe his cheer. 

He will make a plaything of anything 
He finds in his little life; 
And accepts with simple glad belief. 
The joys, and ignores the strife. 

We may learn from him how to happy be, 
In spite of our rank or fame; 
And all enjoy the frolicksome mood, 
In playing at life's great game. 

Each morn we '11 look for one gladsome thing 

To keep in the heart all day. 

It may be a sunbeam across the floor, 

It may be a child at play. 

It may be the raindrops falling soft, 
Or a delicate fragrant flower, 
Or just the tone of a dear one's voice, 
Or a smile to enrich the hour. 

But in life's busy mart, or in quiet home, 
We '11 keep it the whole day long ; 
And 'twill serve as a rich sweet overtone 
To sing us life's grand sweet song. 



SELF-MASTERY 



When life's little worries seem too much to bear, 

Get a new grip on life. 

"When fate seems to load yon with too big a share, 

Get a new grip on life. 

Eliminate some of the petty things you 

Have always insisted you'd faithfully do; 

Give up your false pride, to your good sense be true; 

Get a new grip on life. 



Are you letting the work you're engaged in, run you? 

Get a new grip on life. 

Trying to handle enough work for two? 

Get a new grip on life. 

There's nothing so pressing as your self-control, 

If you will live for fame, why you must pay the toll, 

But you can't afford glory, and sacrifice soul, 

Get a new grip on life. 



Have you strength left at eve to appreciate home? 

Get a new grip on life. 

Are you nervous, and restless, desirous to roam? 

Get a new grip on life. 

Don't waste too much pity on your little self, 

Think more of real living than working for pelf, 

You're here to enjoy life, gain friends, love and health; 

Get a new grip on life. 

Take time to enjoy the first beams of the sun. 

Get a new grip on life. 

Commune with old nature when day's work is done. 

Get a new grip on life. 

There's joy in the breeze, energy in the air, 

God's happiness, harmony everywhere; 

True friends, who 're desirous their own joy to share. 

Get a new grip on life. 




UNDERSTANDING 

I wonder, dear, if you can guess 
How much you give of happiness, 
In life's great heights, or moments less, 
Because — you understand. 

I feel it matters not with you 
If I seem thoughtless, e 'en untrue ; 
Your love ne'er wanes whate'er I do, 
Because — you understand. 

Some look for explanations clear 

Of acts or deeds of which they hear, 

And friendship bought thus proves too dear, 

But you — you understand. 

Such faith as yours proves all I need 
To help me strive for nobler deed, 
For lofty vision, love's own creed; 
Knowing — you'll understand. 

If I, tho ' faltering, higher rise, 
And ever reach God's paradise, 
'Twill be that I saw thru thine eyes. 
This much — I understand. 



THE JOYS OP LIFE 

Oh the joy of living, the wind, the earth, the sky, 
The zephers softly wafted to greater worlds on high; 
The pungent grass, the clover, the scent of hay, the 

pine; 
And high o'er all on azure field the fleecy clouds recline\ 



Oh the joy of doing, to feel oneself athrill ; 

To breathe the air, to walk afield, to work with heart 

and will ; 
To witness deeds accomplished; to see the dreams 

ahead ; 
And live in active effort, nor doubt, nor drift, nor dread. 



Oh the joy of knowing — to know all harmony ; 
To see the good in all things, the flowers, sky, and sea ; 
But greater far — in humankind, the germ of God I see ; 
When each shall, as a nautilus, come forth and all be 
free. 



Oh the joy of loving someone who '11 understand, 
Who'll commune with one's own spirit and nothing 

false demand; 
To share the joy of living, or doing, knowing too ; 
And know that in all journeys that soul is one with you. 



FRIENDSHIP'S INSPIRATION 

Do you know how little violet accepts its draught of 

dew, 
And lifts its head once more to azure sky? 
Do you know how golden gilly-flowers their yellow 

cups uphold 
Receiving benediction from on high? 
Thy friendship thus inspires my soul with gladness; 
And lifts my heart in new desire to be 
All that I craved ; all that thou now believest ; 
And, in thy blindness, e'en now thinkest me. 




TRY SMILING 

If you wake in the morning without any vim 

Try smiling. 
If success seems to you too much trouble to win 

Try smiling. 
You're probably letting the years weigh you down, 
Contracting your forehead, and wearing a frown. 
You don't have to worry to gain you a crown, 

Try smiling. 

'Twill put a new vigor in each little nerve, 

Try smiling. 
'Twill help you to stay with the game, and n 'er swerve ; 

Try smiling. 
'Twill bring back the spring of youth into your heart, 
Relax all the wrinkles, give you a new start. 
You'll find from your worries you're ready to part; 

Try smiling. 

If you're just simply tired with the struggle each day, 

Try smiling. 
If from life's irritations you'd fain run away, 

Try smiling. 
There 's naught that can happen to crush the glad soul, 
No failure or worry keep cheer from its goal; 
You'll emerge from the crucible sane, joyous, whole, 

By smiling. 






PRESS OF 
CHASE A RAE 



CHURCH ST R EC 

S. F ., C AL 



